Sock It To Me
by RotatingWorld
Summary: Callie discovers what Arizona gets up to while she sleeps in.


Callie heard the creak of the apartment door through the half-sleep of her morning off, followed by a heavy thud and the rip of Velcro.

"Calliope, are you up yet?" Arizona's far too awake voice reached her from the hall.

Callie shifted under the comforter, spreading out even more across the double bed, claiming Arizona's side with an arm and a leg. "No," she croaked into her pillow.

She followed the sounds: the hinges of a kitchen cabinet, the clang of glass, the refrigerator seal being broken. Arizona was pouring herself juice. Not even coffee, like a normal person.

Just as Callie was tilting back into sleep, she sensed the bedroom door opening, and movement across the room. Arizona set a glass on the nightstand. If Callie moved that'd give her away, so she continued to feign deep sleep and threw in a little snore for good measure.

Arizona leaned over her form and bent down to her ear. "Faker."

Busted, Callie cracked an eye. Arizona would only let her waste so much of the morning and it was pointless to fight. The blonde was bound to return sooner or later, and with increasingly aggravating ways to get Callie awake and moving. Like turning on that cheesy folk radio, or – yes, there was the radio. Callie pushed all of her limbs out, stretching her muscles before flipping over to face her girlfriend. Which is when she definitely, definitely woke up.

Arizona stood with her back to the bed, adjusting the fancy stereo system. And she was filthy. Like, actually mud-and-grass dirty. And wearing a tank top and striped knee socks and the tiniest athletic shorts that ever qualified as not underwear.

"What the hell do you do while I'm asleep?"

Arizona continued fidgeting with the dials. "Soccer."

"You play soccer on your mornings off?"

"Yep."

"With other people?"

"Intramural league."

"Other women people?"

"It's a women's league, Callie, so yes, other women people."

Callie pulled herself into a seated position, spotted the glass of juice on the nightstand, stared at it like it was the enemy. Arizona found the perfect frequency and turned around, revealing her dirty, dirty soccer thighs and grass-stained soccer knees, none of which seemed to bother her but none of which was lost on Callie.

"Morning sunshine. Drink your juice so we can go out and play."

"It looks like you already played."

"I want to play with _you._"

"I don't play with dirty smelly people. Especially the ones who don't even wear real pants when they play soccer with women who aren't me. And who are probably lesbians."

Arizona cocked her head. "Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Yes, you are."

Callie was really getting riled up. "It's just not _fair_," she annunciated each word, "if I'm _asleep _and you're _not wearing pants_."

"I could have tried to wake you up, but I didn't want to get punched."

"I do not punch!"

"Callie, do you remember _anything_ that happens before noon on your mornings off?"

"---"

"Yeah." Arizona grabbed her shirt hem and pulled the tank over her ponytail. "I'm going to take a shower and then we're going to leave the apartment. Kay?"

Callie didn't reply. Instead, as Arizona passed the bed on her way to the bathroom, Callie scooted to the edge and hooked a finger in her girlfriend's waistband. "I'm jealous."

Arizona was snagged. "I know you are."

"It's the shorts and the sweaty sports bra, and those damn socks. Who even wears those?" Cal had gotten her second hand on the shorts and was tugging them down, along with Arizona's bikini bottoms. Arizona didn't know if her heart was still racing from the morning's workout or if it was the sudden pumping of blood in an entirely unexpected direction. She let Calliope get the shorts past her thighs and stepped out of them.

When Cal headed for the sports bra, she lent her a hand and pulled it off. The sweat she had worked up suddenly chilled her head to toe. Callie noticed. "Nice," she said, eyes on Arizona's rack.

"Am I still taking a shower?"

In answer, Callie slid her hands around Arizona's ass and pulled her onto the bed. Arizona obliged, crawling on top of her girlfriend, stealing her mouth for a dirty, endorphin-fueled kiss. Cal pushed her over and claimed the top.

"I'll get the sheets dirty," Arizona noted.

"Too late," Callie said. "And we're leaving the socks on."

Minutes later, her socks crossed behind her girlfriend's back, Arizona realized that if Callie wanted to stay in bed on her mornings off, she should just fucking let her.


End file.
